


where no other love goes

by Burning_Nightingale



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Post-Canon, Quests, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-17 19:16:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15468192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burning_Nightingale/pseuds/Burning_Nightingale
Summary: "What is life if it's just of the earth,Only of the flesh and bone?"The Kade in Red fled through the deep forests, and the mage followed.





	where no other love goes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elleth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elleth/gifts).



> This is an example of what happens when a fic gets away from you and sort of turns into idfic. I'm sorry in advance.
> 
> I've been batting the idea of a "save Tuuri from Tuonela" fic around my head for ages now, and nothing felt right until I hit on this idea. As it says in the tags, character death is only temporary, though it persists for most of the story; but the ending is undoubtedly happy. "Above all shadows rides the sun" was the alternate title for this piece, and is essentially the message it tries to portray.
> 
> Title and quote from the song Bones by Equinox, which is also the theme of this fic; listen to it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kvug7hC1VYs

_Dated 26th January, Year 95_

_Entitled: Mission Report from Outpost At Keuruu_

_Message Start:_

_Reporting catastrophic loss of life on mission into Ostrobothnia Silent World. Half of expedition team dead, many others unaccounted for. Party attacked by unknown creature of monstrous size. Mission objective not achieved. Would advise no further incursion into the area._

_Of those living we count:_

_Kaleva Seppänen, Pellervo Klemetti, Sigrun Eide, Mikkel Madsen, Emil Västerström_

_Of those dead we count:_

_Elma Mäkitalo, Hulda Koivula, Martta Laine,_ _Kullervo Määttä,_ _Valde Hannula,_ _Arvi Kokkonen,_ _Joonatan Laurila, Lalli Hotakainen_

_Of those missing we count:_

_Pertti Laakkonen, Janne Litmanen, Altti Pietilä, Onni Hotakainen, Reynir Árnason  
_

_Signed and confirmed,_

_Kaleva Seppänen_

_Message End_

/

As the years pass, the people begin calling him The Kade in Red.

Finnish mages are very sensitive to his passing; they give him good directions when he asks. Many of those without magical training still feel him when he goes by, if only as a whisper in their ear or a shiver down their spine, and if he can't find a mage, their information will do. It's better than nothing.

Still, Reynir is always the one following. Only rarely the one catching up.

Onni knows his homeland and her gods. Some of them hinder him, but some aid him still; and he has walked these forests in dreams many times, even if his feet have never trodden these paths in the waking world. 

Reynir is alone out here. Far from his own gods, his connection to their magic weakened. A stranger in an unfriendly land.

Still, he pursues. 

At first some mistake him for a kade himself, when he walks out of the Silent World untouched. Usually they come to believe he is nothing but a strange foreigner (or at least, they pretend they do), and they help him on his way. If they seem unusually eager to see the back of him, he can't exactly blame them. There's not much room for trust in their world.

He sorely misses the cat-tank. He longs for the strong steel walls around him, the solid barrier keeping out everything that lurks in the Silent World. Out here he has nothing but his mask, a meagre protection against the creeping horror of feeling watched every day and every hour, of staying silent and hidden and trying to pass unseen, of lying down to sleep in enemy territory, never sure if he'll wake again. Always, always alone. 

 _It's madness to go after him_ , Sigrun had said.  _Come back with us; come back to Keuruu. Don't even think of- Reynir don't- Reynir! Come back!_

He'd ignored her; a simple flick of the wrist had spun the snow into a cloud of cover, and he'd slipped away into the forest, leaving all of them behind. 

He still hears their voices in his dreams, sometimes. Calling for him to come home.

It's been almost seven years to the day since he started this quest, since the end of their disastrous second mission, when he draws his small coracle up the bank of yet another tiny island. He can see smoke rising in the distance from where a tiny collection of homes cluster atop the island. There can only be twenty or so; this is a small village, even by Finnish standards.

There's someone waiting for him on the beach. He looks hostile when Reynir first spots him, but as he approaches, his expression softens somewhat. "You're a traveller?" he asks, his tone somewhere between wary and welcoming. His eyes take in Reynir from head to toe, from his dirty boots to his gas mask to the Icelandic clothes that clearly mark him as an outlander. 

"Yes," Reynir says, "I'm looking for food and warmth for the night."

The stranger nods sharply. "A mage?" he asks, more bite in his tone this time.

Reynir just nods.

"And me," the man says, motioning to himself. "And since I can tell you're not a Kade, you'll be welcome here."

The man leads him up the slope to the village, where several others are waiting, their faces full of concern. When the mage makes a sign with his hand, all their faces relax somewhat. "Welcome, stranger," says the oldest woman, and they all nod at him.

Reynir returns the gesture. "Thank you."

They have little to give, but they make him a place by their communal fire, give him a bowl of warm food, and then leave him to his own devices. 

Many of the villagers watch him from a distance, but the mage is the only one who approaches. "It's strange, to see an outlander way out here," he says, watching Reynir with wariness and intrigue mixing in his eyes. "You really came all the way from Iceland?"

Reynir nods. "I am seeking someone," he says. "Perhaps you felt him pass."

The mage's face clouds. "The kade," he whispers.

Reynir nods. "The Kade in Red, they call him. So far he has not killed a man, but animals sicken at his passing, and the infected walk in his wake. He brings trouble, and many notice, so his trail is not hard to find; catching up to him is the hard part."

A sudden hard determination has entered the mage's eye. "I could catch up to him. I know these woods. He passed by not too long ago; we could catch him, together."

The words give Reynir pause. Maybe the mage does know these woods, but he can't be more than a teenager. Leading him against Onni would be leading him to his death. "I cannot agree to risk your life. I will continue to hunt him alone."

The mage's expression twists. "You said he didn't kill people?"

Something in Reynir's stomach sickens. "Yes."

"He killed my mother."

They stare at each other for a long moment, but the mage doesn't back down, doesn't retract his statement.

"How?" Reynir asks.

"His presence sickened the land. She was already weak; the illness took her."

 _He wouldn't have meant to do that; wouldn't have wanted it,_  Reynir wants to say, but that won't mean anything to the boy. He heaves a heavy sigh. "How would you hunt him?"

"There's a place of power, deep in the forest. I bet he's gone there."

A sense of doom settles in Reynir's chest, but all he says is, "Very well." The boy's eyes fill with triumph, and Reynir continues, "If I'm going to accompany you, I believe you owe me the gift of your name."

They tend to be suspicious about names, out here; wary of what power they might give one person over another. But if you agree to walk into battle at someone's back, then by right they owe you their name.

"Jarkko," the boy says, his eyes bright. "And when I kill this kade with you, outlander, you will owe me the gift of  _your_ name."

Reynir has no intention of killing this kade; but he bites his tongue and nods.

~

Jarkko takes him to the small, ramshackle hut that belongs to his family, though the only other member of that family is his ancient grandmother. Her face is wrinkled and her hair white as snow, but she reminds him of a tree that has seen many winters, full of bitter strength and knowledge, and her eyes are clear as she narrows them in Reynir's direction. "Who is this outlander?" she asks, her tone sharp.

"A mage." Jarkko seems to chew on his words for a moment, then adds, "I offered him food and shelter for the night."

"Generous," his grandmother says, in a tone of distinct disapproval. "Then be welcome in our home, stranger," she adds, in what might be the most unwelcoming tone Reynir has ever heard.

"Thank you," he says, "Your people have already provided food; I need no more than a place in a corner."

She huffs, then ignores him for the rest of the evening. 

The next morning, Jarkko leads him out into the little space that they're using as a vegetable patch and says, "Let me show you my plan." Gathering various debris from the garden, he sets out a map of sorts on the rough ground before Reynir's feet. "The place of power is  _here_. The forest is very thick around it; there are no paths, but I know how to get there. The kade will probably be  _here_. There are lots of big rocks surrounding the place of power; if we climb onto this one, we should be able to see down into it. Then you can hit him with your magic and I can shoot him with my bow."

Reynir regards the model in silence for a few moments before asking, "What is it, this place of power?"

Jarkko scratches at the back of his head. "Don't know. Never got close enough to look at it properly; but Dad described it to me, a long time ago."

Reynir doesn't ask where his father is. "This plan will work. When shall we go?"

"Tomorrow morning. Don't want to be in the woods at night." At that moment they both hear the old lady calling Jarkko's name. "I've got chores," Jarkko says, "Don't go anywhere. You can come back here tonight."

Reynir spends the day at the edge of the water, luxuriating in being able to relax, to let down his guard. This tiny village might not be the safest place in the entire known world, but it's better than being alone, out in the forest.

When he returns to Jarkko's house, he can hear a fierce argument going on inside. He sits out in the vegetable garden, trying not to listen, but the walls aren't thick; Jarkko's grandmother has discovered his plan to confront a kade, and is not best pleased. 

Eventually Jarkko storms out into the garden, pausing when he sees Reynir sitting there. "Has your grandmother forbidden you from hunting the kade?" Reynir asks.

Jarkko shakes his head. "She's not happy about it, but I convinced her." He blows out an irritated breath. "I don't see why she has to make such a fuss!"

"She's worried." Reynir gets to his feet and brushes off his clothes. "You should go for a walk; cool off."

With a rather mulish expression, Jarkko sets off. Once he leaves Reynir's sight, he turns and goes into the hut. 

He expects Jarkko's grandmother to glare; instead the look she gives him is even, measuring. "He suggested this plan," she says, not a question.

"He said he knew where to hunt the kade," Reynir says.

She heaves a great sigh, and gestures to the stool in front of her. "Come. That rat's nest looks like it hasn't been washed in weeks."

Months, more like; Reynir sits down, feeling gratitude flow through him. "I won't take him into the forest, if you don't want him to go."

"He gave you his name in trust," the old woman says, "And his life is his own to risk, whatever my wishes." He hears water slosh behind him. "I don't have the firewood to spare heating it, so it'll be cold."

"That's fine." Reynir begins unpicking his braid.

"Lean back, then."

She washes his long hair in the cold water, then squeezes it out and rubs it with a rough cloth. After that, he stays still as she weaves a simple braid into his hair. First she braids two strands at the front, then pulls them back and incorporates them into a longer braid all the way down his back. Once that's done, she twists the braid up into a bun, then secures it with what feels like a thin stick pushed through it. "There," she says.

Reynir reaches up and touches the stick; it feels smooth, clearly worked and oiled. "What is this?"

"A trinket; I make them for all the hunters who leave the village. It has a charm for protection." She clasps his shoulder and says in a low voice, "You'd best bring him back, outlander."

Reynir nods. "I will."

~

They leave for the forest at daybreak. Jarkko is jittery with excitement beside him, a longbow that looks far too large for him strapped to his back. "Where did you get that?" Reynir asks.

"It was my father's," Jarkko says, his eyes alight with pride.

Both of them sober as they near their destination. They creep through the forest on silent feet, coming closer to what Jarkko continues to call 'the place of power'. As it emerges through the trees, Reynir sees tall outcroppings of rock, pushing up like strange whales from the leaf-strewn forest floor. 

Jarkko points to the nearest towering rock formation. "Up there."

They climb, painstakingly quiet; it seems to take forever, and Reynir's arms are aching by the time they reach the peak of the rock, and look down over the lip into the bowl-shaped depression below.

The first thing Reynir sees is what looks like a small shrine; the second is a figure.

A  _familiar_ figure.

Reynir sucks in a sharp breath. In all of his long, bitter, seven-year pursuit, he and his quarry have only met a handful of times; but now, here in this hollow in the woods in the middle of nowhere, here he is. Another chance to repay his longstanding debt.

He's so absorbed in staring, he doesn't notice Jarkko; only when the arrow goes flying past his ear in a rush of air, down into the hollow, does Reynir notice he's drawn his bow. He chokes on a yell of protest, the seconds seeming to stretch endlessly as the arrow arcs downward-

And then Onni lifts his hand, and deflects the arrow.

The moment stretches, like Reynir's moving through water. Jarkko's reaching for another arrow, his face twisted in a snarl; and Onni's staring up at him, face blank, one hand half-raised.

He doesn't  _look_ different, is the strangest thing; he still looks like the mage Reynir met so long ago, who helped him defeat the ghosts, who spoke to him in dreams. 

Aside from the red clothes. The Onni before never wore red - and the colour is strange now, too bright against the natural colours of the forest all around. 

But Reynir can  _feel_ , strong and potent, the  _wrongness_ radiating off him, filling the hollow like a sickening miasma.

Jarkko raises his bow, and Onni raises his hand; and Reynir reacts, summoning a thrust of magic and batting Jarkko out of the line of fire, sending him scrabbling back down the steep slope they just climbed.

Then he grimaces, concentrates, imagines a circle of light springing up around the hollow; he releases the magic, and feels it take form, creating a barrier around them. Then he steps out into thin air, letting himself fall and catching himself with a burst of magic before he hits the floor. 

Onni has already bolted for the treeline and discovered the barrier in front of him. He turns, ready to go the other way, and finds Reynir blocking him.

For a few tense seconds they stand silent, simply staring at each other, neither one moving. 

Then Onni rasps, "What are you doing here?"

"I've been following you," Reynir says, hearing his own voice come out low and tense, "Or hadn't you noticed?"

"I thought you would've given up by now," Onni says. He tilts his head. "How long has it been - two years, since we last saw one another?"

"You're getting better at avoiding me," Reynir says. He tries to soften his voice as he adds, "I just want to talk to you."

"We talked before," Onni snaps, "And when did that ever help anything?"

"Anything would be better than this." Reynir holds out a hand. "Won't you come back with me? I can't leave you out here like this."

He half expects Onni to sneer; instead, his face spasms with unbearable sorrow. "You've offered that before; you know how I'll answer." He asks the same question he always does, every time Reynir catches up to him. "What is left for me back there?"

"More than the Silent World," Reynir insists.

"So you always say." Onni looks up into the trees. "It's quiet out here; I like it. The woods, the animals, the lakes. It's peaceful."

"The animals that sicken at your touch," Reynir says, his voice cold, "The lakes you poison with your very presence."

The glare Onni gives him could cut stone. "Why do you follow me, Reynir?" he asks, raising his voice, "Out of concern? Or do you only want to assuage your own guilt?"

"I-" Reynir opens his mouth, but his words are cut off by a yell from his right. Twisting round, Reynir sees Jarkko coming at them from the side, his bow raised again. "Jarkko! Don't!" Reynir yells, but too late; a flash of light blazes through the hollow, forcing Reynir to throw an arm up to protect his eyes.

When he lowers it, Jarkko is on the ground, unmoving.

For a moment neither he nor Onni say anything. Then Onni whispers, "I always try not to hurt anyone. I just want to be left  _alone_."

Reynir's body stutters into movement, jerkily taking him over to where Jarkko lies fallen. A finger on his neck reveals the barest flutter of a pulse. "He's not dead."

Onni doesn't reply. When Reynir looks up, he sees only a flash of red retreating through the distant trees - and curses himself for a fool. His distraction, checking on Jarkko, meant he dropped the barrier, and Onni slipped away once again.

Jarkko's pulse is failing, slipping away; Reynir pours what little healing magic he can muster into him, but the exertations of the last few minutes have drained him. The boy is in danger of slipping away.

He can't get over how fast it all happened. One moment, they were climbing the rock; then the trading of blows, the short exchange of words, and now Reynir is alone. Again. 

Maybe Onni is right. If he doesn't want to be saved, then why bother? Reynir should pack up and go home, before this harsh, unloving landscape finally finds a way to kill him.

It's then, while he's slumped over next to Jarkko's body, consumed by quiet despair, that he hears a rustling behind him.

Instantly on alert, summoning whatever feeble magic he can, Reynir twists up to his feet. He scans the area, looking for trolls, creeping beasts, anything-

There's a man sitting on top of the shrine.

For a long, pregnant second, he and Reynir stare at each other. Reynir can feel his mouth hanging open; the stranger wears a small, amused smirk.

"You may as well save your magic, kid," the man says, his smirk growing infinitesimally wider. 

Reynir flinches; it's the first time he's heard someone speak Icelandic in almost four years. "Who are you?"

"An old friend of yours," the man says, tilting his head. "Don't worry, little Reynir; we didn't forget about you, all the way out here in the wild Finnish forests."

"That doesn't answer my question," Reynir says, not lowering his hand.

The stranger shrugs. "Not really. But I'd say your friend there is the more pressing issue, hmm?" He nods toward Jarkko.

Reynir feels a sick spike of guilt in his stomach. "He's dying."

"That he is; but I might be able to...reinvigorate him, so to speak." The stranger's smirk grows into a full grin. "That is, if you were willing to help me with something."

Reynir's gut is screaming  _trap_ , but still he asks, "Like what?"

The stranger hops down from the shrine and strolls, casual, in Reynir's direction. "I think we could both benefit from a certain  _idea_ I have in mind," he says. "That kade that just rushed off so fast was a friend of yours, no?"

Reynir nods tightly.

"And you want him back? I know you do; we've watched you chase him with such dedication all these years, after all."

"You've watched?" Reynir asks, confused.

The stranger goes on as if he hadn't heard. "But you're going about it entirely the wrong way, my friend. Young Onni won't be convinced out of kadeism by mere words; surely you're intelligent enough to see that."

Reynir bites his lip, says nothing; but the stranger is giving voice to thoughts he's had, late at night when his quest seemed most hopeless. He'd kept on, never wanting to give in, but with the way his confrontation with Onni just went, he's starting to think the stranger is correct. 

"But I'll tell you what will convince him." The stranger turns and smiles straight at Reynir, revealing ever-so-slightly sharpened teeth. "Now, bringing his family back from the grip of death; I think  _that_ might convince him to come home, don't you?"

Reynir stares at him. Around them the forest whispers to itself, full of the tugging of the breeze and rustling of bushes.

Eventually Reynir says, "You're mad. No one returns from death."

The stranger's grin is almost manic. "But if I knew a way, wouldn't you like to know?"

He must be mad; but something pulls Reynir toward him. A tiny, pathetic little hope.  _If it could save Onni_ and  _bring Lalli and Tuuri back..._ This man is strange, impossibly out here all alone in the woods, but any hope is better than none. "Tell me, then," he says.

There's a glimmer of triumph in the stranger's eyes. "Your middle name is no coincidence, Reynir  _Thor_ Árnason. Occasionally the God of Thunder gives mortals a piece of his power, as all gods do; you are an unexpected choice for him, to be sure, but sometimes he is capable of making cunning decisions." The stranger comes closer, and Reynir has to fight a sudden, instinctual urge to run. "His power in your blood is probably what makes you a mage, and such a strong one too. But you could give it away, if you chose, without harming your own soul; you could offer it in payment for a great boon."

Reynir suddenly sees the shape of the stranger's plan. "If I gave it to the Swan, she might give Lalli and Tuuri back?" he asks in a whisper.

"For the power you have in your veins? I think you could convince her." 

"But how would I get to Tuonela to ask her?" 

"For that, you need the kade. He'll know how, if you can convince him to help you."

Reynir looks in the direction Onni disappeared. "It might take me another seven years to find him again; I only cornered him here because of Jarkko. I can't feel the wells of power in these forests, not like the Finnish mages can."

"Then don't follow," the stranger says, "Instead, lure him to you." He reaches out and places a hand on Reynir's shoulder, turns him in the direction Reynir thinks is southwest. "In four weeks a group of old friends will arrive at the inn in Keuruu. Make sure you're there to meet them, and they'll help you lure in the kade."

"And then all I have to do is convince him my soul is bonded to a piece of a god's power, which we can exchange with the Finnish goddess of death for the souls of his dead siblings." Reynir looks at the stranger with a raised brow. "Do you know how crazy this sounds?"

"Crazier than passing Thor off as a blushing bride?" the stranger asks.

"That's just a story."

The stranger laughs. "If only you'd be there to see it, kid. Now," he points at Jarkko, still lying motionless at their feet. "The boy's soul is slipping away; you only have a few more moments to decide. Will you trade Thor's power for your friends' souls? 'Tis a worthy bargain, in my humble opinion."

Reynir frowns at him. "What would you get from all this?"

The stranger's smile is sharp as a dagger. "Amusement," is all he says. Then he snaps his fingers in front of Reynir's face. "Decide quickly, mage! Will you let the boy die? Will you spend the rest of your life chasing a hopeless quest?"

"Who are you?" Reynir asks. "Even if any of this worked, no one can save a child with a click of his fingers."

"Maybe, maybe not," the stranger returns, "But you won't know until I try, will you?"

Reynir looks down at Jarkko. He's little more than a child; whatever else Reynir does or does not do, he cannot allow the boy to die like this, not when he was so eager to help. "I'll do it," he says. "Please, save Jarkko."

"Very well," the stranger says, and clicks his fingers once more. On the floor Jarkko gasps, shockingly loud and sudden, and Reynir drops to his knees, feeling the boy's skin warm under his hands. 

When he looks up to thank the stranger, he's gone; but then a whirling storm of wind surrounds them, and over it, Reynir hears the stranger's voice.

"Be warned, Reynir Árnason; I do not take kindly to those who break deals. Be in Keuruu in four weeks time, or risk a wrath greater than any kade's."

As sudden as it came, the wind drops; and Reynir is left with Jarkko and the vast, silent forest.

~

Reynir leaves Jarkko with a promise, and seals it with his name.

"If I can defeat this kade, I will come back and let you know the deed is done," he says, hitching his pack higher on his shoulder. There's little else he has time to give; if he wants to be in Keuruu on time, he has to leave  _now_.

Jarkko glares at him sourly for a moment before the spark of an idea pops into his eyes. "And you'll make me your apprentice."

Reynir stares at him. "You're a Finnish mage. I can't teach you anything about that."

"Any teaching's better than none," Jarkko says, stubborn and glaring.

Reynir hesitates for a moment before saying, "Fine. Little good though it will do you, if I defeat this kade I will come back and make you my apprentice." He motions in the direction of the village. "Now, go home."

Jarkko looks unconvinced. "You promise?"

"On my own name, Reynir Árnason, I promise."

"Reynir Árnason," Jarkko repeats, trying the name out in his mouth. "Alright then. You'll be held to that promise, Reynir Árnason."

"And I'll keep it." Reynir nods to him once, and then walks away into the trees.

The journey to Keuruu from the northern villages is a long one, and four weeks only just enough time to make it in. Reynir spends the majority of each day on the march, stopping sporadically for food and water, using up the supplies of food in his pack as much as possible, rather than wasting time on hunting. In the end, he makes it to Keuruu a few days ahead of schedule, exhausted, wanting nothing more than to collapse onto a soft bed.

The guards at the main gate have other ideas.

"Haven't you heard of permission to travel documents, outlander?" one of them asks snidely, the barrel of his rifle blocking Reynir's way into town.

Reynir does  _not_ have time for this. "I had them, a long time ago. I believe I was reported missing on a mission; I'm reporting back in."

Both guards stare at him with clear suspicion. "Oh yeah? Which mission?" one asks.

"The expedition into the Silent World at Ostrobothia seven years ago."

Now both of them look incredulous. "There's no way you're coming back from that  _now_ ," the first one scoffs.

"Oh no? Have you ever been trapped in the Silent World? Have you ever fought a troll single-handed and lived to tell of it?" Reynir is exaggerating, but they don't know that. "I need to get in and speak to the old commander. Are you going to let me in, or am I going to have to go back out into the Silent World alone?"

The guards look at each other; one looks ready to throw him out on his ear, but the other one hesitates, and pulls his companion off to the side. They begin to whisper in low voices, and Reynir moves his hand, hidden in his coat sleeve, in a series of gestures. The eavesdropping spell is not a complex one; and within seconds their whispering voices are amplified, allowing him to hear the first say, "-way we can take him to Captain Hollola, Esko! She'll  _crucify_ us if we bring her some fake-"

"And what if he's not a fake?" the other one, Esko, interrupts, "There are five people still unaccounted for from that mission, Alarik. If we could help the Captain make that only four-"

"And what if we get fired for letting in some stranger? If I lose this paycheck my sister won't be able to eat!"

Reynir sees Esko reach out and place a hand on Alarik's shoulder. "It's worth asking the question. No one will fire us for querying someone's entry; that's what we're here for."

"If you're wrong-"

"I'm not wrong."

There's a tense second, and then Alarik sighs. "Fine, as you will, then."

They both turn back to Reynir, who pretends he was inspecting the wooden gate and not listening in on their little argument. "You'll have to wait out here while we contact the Captain," Alarik says gruffly. 

"That's fine by me."

"What's your name?" Esko asks.

"Reynir Árnason."

Esko nods, and disappears off into the town; Reynir waits with Alarik, who pointedly refuses to answer any of Reynir's attempts to start innocent smalltalk. After a while he gives up, and they wait in silence until Esko returns, a very familiar figure by his side.

Taru Hollola doesn't look surprised to see Reynir. "I always thought you'd come back eventually," she says, sombre and serious. "Good work, you two," she says aside to Esko and Alarik, who both salute. "Árnason, you come with me."

She leads him through the gate, and once out of earshot of the guards, asks, "I assume there's a reason you're back here."

"I was told some old friends would be arriving very soon."

"The Cleansers from Mora, you mean?"

Swedish Cleansers means Emil, and maybe Sigrun and Mikkel will  be with him. "Yes."

Taru stops, and stares out over the town rather than at Reynir as she asks, "You've given up on Onni, then?" Her tone is flat rather than accusing.

Reynir turns to her. "No, I haven't. But I'm making no progress on my own. I thought I might be able to ask the others for help." Struck by a sudden idea, he adds, "And you, maybe."

Taru gives a hollow laugh. "I've been no help to any of them," she says quietly.

Reynir has a sudden urge to tell her about the plan the stranger in the north outlined, but with an effort he keeps it behind his teeth. The plan is near impossible, almost certain to fail, and he'd rather not give her false hope. "I was hoping I could lure him back here," he says. 

Taru raises her eyebrows. "A bold plan."

"Chasing him hasn't worked well so far."

"So you want to force him into a confrontation." She sighs. "Well, that will expedite things, I suppose." She goes quiet for a moment, staring at her feet. Reynir keeps his silence, waiting for her to think through whatever she's about to say.

"There is something I've often considered doing," Taru says eventually, "And it might lure him back here. Follow me."

She leads him for about ten minutes through the streets of Keuruu, where the soldiers and other military personnel pretend they're not staring at the foreigner, and Reynir ignores them with practised ease. She stops in front of a house that looks no different to any other, though Reynir gets the distinct feeling no one has lived here in a while. "This was his house," she says quietly. "Before he left for Ostrobothnia, he set up what our mages call a trip-tag; a way to know if anyone's been in your home." She smiles a little. "He always was paranoid."

"So if we trigger the trip-tag, he might come looking to see who disturbed it?"

"That's what I've always thought. Though, maybe he won't care." Taru stares up at the house, a muted sorrow in her eyes.

Reynir looks up at it with her. "He'd care if we burnt it."

Taru looks at him sharply. "What?"

"The tag. If we burnt it, he might think the whole house went up with it."

"So you want to wait here for an angry kade to come bearing down on you?" Taru asks, sounding somewhat impressed underneath her doubtful tone. 

"If he's angry, he's more likely to come."

Taru stares at him for a moment, then sighs and shakes her head. "At least wait for your friends to get here. You'll need some literal firepower - and that crazy Norwegian - if you want to take on a kade." 

"Actually, I want to try and make a bargain with him."

Taru clicks her tongue. "Then  _you_  are the crazy one. Still, wait for the others, I'd advise. Best to have them on your side when things inevitably go pear-shaped."

~

The ferry carrying the boatload of Swedish Cleansers (along with what Taru had called "all the crazy Norwegians who want a holiday") lands two days after Reynir arrives, early in the morning while he's asleep. Taru had pulled some strings and found him a private - if tiny - room in the barracks, and sleeping on a soft bed again feels so good, he's hardly left it since Taru dropped him off there the first night. He didn't quite realise how  _exhausted_ he was until he lay down on a proper bed again.

When he arrives in the inn he's been taking his meals at - the only one in town, so presumably the one the stranger was talking about - he sees a familiar trio sitting at one of the tables in the back, a massive breakfast spread in front of them. 

He spends about five seconds debating how to approach them, and what to say; and then he simply walks over and slips into the seat next to Emil, saying only, "Hi."

There's a moment of stillness, as all three of them stare; then the tabe erupts into shouting, with both Emil and Sigrun launching themselves at him while Mikkel tries valiantly to save the food. 

Sigrun can't seem to decide if she's happy or angry to see him. She hugs him, then pushes him back and shakes him disapprovingly, saying, "I thought you were dead! We all thought you were dead!"

"I almost was, a couple of times," Reynir says, patting Emil's shoulder where the Swede has enthusiastically thrown his arms around his shoulders. 

Eventually Emil lets go of him and Mikkel convinces Sigrun back into her seat, and Reynir asks, "So what are you doing here, anyway? I was surprised when Taru mentioned a Swedish Cleanser regiment coming to Finland."

"It's all to do with what happened in Åland." When Reynir looks confused, Emil says, "You didn't hear about the Åland Cleansing Initiative?" Reynir shakes his head, and Emil continues, "Apparently both Swedish and Finnish governments have been talking about reclaiming it for a long time. When Sweden got into a position to actually do it, they incorporated the Finns for 'diplomatic reasons' - those reasons mainly being the stink they would've kicked up if they  _weren't_ included." 

"It was once _their_ archipelago," Mikkel points out mildly.

"The key word being 'once', Mikkel." Emil shrugs. "Anyway, it was a disaster. Turns out Åland was hiding all sorts of nasty trolls who weren't best pleased with our efforts to burn the place. Lots of people got killed." Reynir can't help but notice the strain in Emil's face as he talks about it, the forced lightness in his tone, the grief in the lines around his eyes. He looks over at Sigrun, who shakes her head minutely.  _Best not to ask_. "Anyway, someone on the Finnish side accused the Swedish government of abandoning Finnish troops, our government accused the same back, blah blah blah more boring politics. In the end both sides agreed to give the other something as a peace offering. We're getting more imports or something, and the Finns are getting our help Cleansing the area around Keuruu." 

"They don't perform Cleansing themselves?" Reynir asks.

"They do, but not quite as good as we do." Emil starts buttering another slice of bread. "We'll be here for a two year cycle; hopefully we'll have cleared the area by then."

"So what do you two have to do with all that?" Reynir asks.

"Got hired," Sigrun says, at the same time as Mikkel says, "Holiday."

Reynir raises his eyebrows at Mikkel. "Only Sigrun would consider Cleansing a holiday."

"Ah, but you see, as Expedition Cook, I get to stay in the vehicle at all times," Mikkel says. "Much less chance of death, much more chance of seeing the beautiful Finnish countryside."

"As the Swedes burn it into oblivion," Reynir says.

"I'll just have to look in the direction they're not burning, won't I?"

"Don't listen to him," Sigrun laughs, "He just couldn't bear to miss the reunion tour." 

Mikkel smiles to himself, and doesn't contradict her.

"You got hired?" Reynir asks.

"Apparently Norwegian troll-hunting expertise is in demand these days," Sigrun says. "Not enough fight in the rest of you; need us to come and show those trolls what for, heh."

"And since we've all expanded on why  _we're_ here," Mikkel says, "What are  _you_ doing here, Reynir?"

"Oh, you know," Reynir tries a casual shrug, "I'm planning to lure an angry kade here and then make a deal with him to go to the land of the dead and bargain with a death goddess for two souls using the piece of divine power I have inside me."

For a moment they all stare at him again. "What?" Emil manages.

"That sounds dangerous," Mikkel says, his usual studied nonchalant tone coloured with real concern.

"Mages are strange," Sigrun adds, shaking her head.

There's nothing else for it; they need to hear it all, if they're going to understand. Reynir takes a deep breath, then launches into an abridged tale of the last few years - of his encounters with Onni, of Jarkko and the place of power, and of the odd stranger and his insane plan. 

When he finishes, the table is silent for a good two minutes as everyone digests the wealth of information he just gave them. He's considering waving over the serving girl to ask for a cup of tea when Sigrun says, "Suddenly spending the last seven years troll-hunting doesn't seem so bad."

"This plan is nuts," Emil says. He actually sounds angry. "Look, I know you mages can do-  _something_ , somehow, with all your powers and the lights and- but this is  _insane_. You believe some random guy in the woods when he says you have a piece of a  _god_ inside you?"

"He said he could bring Jarkko back from death's door, and he did," Reynir says. "Besides, I don't think he was just any random stranger. I was too stressed to think about it at the time, but I think he was much more than human."

"What does that mean, exactly?" Emil demands.

"I don't want to say; I don't want to guess wrong. But he knew things he shouldn't have known, and he saved Jarkko with a wave of his hand." Reynir has been thinking about the stranger in all the spare moments during his four week trek to Keuruu, and has formed a reasonable guess at his identity - but to speak his name aloud might invite misfortune or give insult. 

"So you believe there really is a piece of Thor's...soul? Inside you?" Mikkel asks.

"Not his  _soul_ ; he couldn't survive if he broke that into pieces, could he? But sometimes heroes get pieces of his  _power_." Sigrun says this as if it's basic knowledge. "It's a risky idea. Who's to say you won't succeed only to bring the god of thunder down on your head, angry that you gave away his gift?"

"I've thought about that," Reynir says, "But really, it's only me at fault, if I give that power away. So it won't affect Onni or the others."

"Or so you  _hope_ ," Sigrun says, "He's not known for being a reasonable personality."

Emil's mouth is drawn in a thin line. "You talk about this as if it's actually going to happen; as if you can actually go to the land of the dead and speak to gods."

"All these years and you still don't believe?" Reynir asks, keeping his tone mild.

"Because there's nothing to believe  _in_." Emil gives an angry sigh. "If you want us there to help you with Onni, then fine. Just don't expect me to believe the rest of it." With that Emil gets up, stalking away from the table and out of the inn.

Into the moment of silence that follows, Sigrun says quietly, "He still misses Lalli."

Reynir nods; there's little else to say about that. "It sounds like he's had a rough few years."

"That's putting it lightly," Sigrun says darkly. She heaves a sigh, stretches her arms up toward the ceiling, and says, "Just give me a time and a place, kid. If you could actually bring those two back..." She trails off, starts tapping one finger on the wooden tabletop. "Well, that would settle some scores on my end."

"I will watch from a safe distance," Mikkel puts in, "With a rifle."

Reynir smiles at them both. "Glad to have you with me."

~

The next day, with the other three gathered at his back, Reynir pulls down the trip-tag and sets it alight with a quick whispered spell. He drops it to the dirt street, and they all silently watch it burn. "So, when will he come?" Sigrun asks.

"Depends how far away he is," Reynir says. 

"We wait here?" Emil asks.

"The walls are heavily spelled with protective magic; I don't know if he can get past them undetected. We might be better off waiting at the main gate."

"Or, since he helped set up those wards, maybe he knows how to get past them," Sigrun says. 

"The wall is heavily guarded, but no one will be watching here," Mikkel says, "If the guards on the wall send up a cry, we can be there in time to confront him. We should wait here." 

It feels strange to enter Onni's house, but the only other place to wait is the street, so the three of them file in through the door and take up seats in the sparsely furnished main room. "And now we wait," Mikkel says. "Does anyone want tea?"

They wait until night, then set up a watch. Reynir takes the shift just before sunrise. Sitting alone by the front window, memories come to him from before, of both expeditions - both the (mostly) successful, and the disastrous. 

Ostrobothia had been hell from the moment they entered the Silent World. Not everyone had died in that final attack; many lacked experience beyond the borders of safe, cleansed lands, and ran into troubles their team had learnt about years ago back in Denmark. Worse than that, Reynir had  _known_ something was following them, had sensed it when they were only days away from Keuruu. He'd tried to convince the mission leader that they should turn back, but Elma wouldn't hear of it.

She'd paid for it in the end, though it made Reynir sad to think of it that way. She hadn't been a bad person - just too ambitious for her own good, and in charge of a mission she didn't really know how to run. 

Still, he couldn't say it would've been better if it had been only them, the same team as last time. If it had only been the five of them, the monster probably would have cut through them like a scythe through wheat. 

It had only been thanks to Lalli's sacrifice that  _anyone_ managed to get away - and even that hadn't killed the creature.

And Lalli's sacrifice had only been needed thanks to his  _mistake_. If he hadn't stumbled-

Reynir shakes his head and tries to banish the thoughts. He's going to make up for all that; going to bring everyone back, and make it all right.

~

Three days after they settle in, Onni arrives.

It's night, nearly morning, and Reynir is on watch again. The guards on the wall send up no cry; Sigrun was right, and Onni must have been able to slip past the wards he had a large hand in creating.

He steps into the house, his tread almost silent, and doesn't see Reynir waiting in the corner. 

The others are all sleeping upstairs; Reynir assumes Onni can feel them, the varying pulses of their energy as they drift in dreams or deep sleep. He walks further into the house, his head swinging from side to side, clearly checking it over for damage. What must he be thinking? Is he wondering what happened, to set the trip-tag alight but leave his house untouched? Or is he looking for the culprit?

Silencing his own footsteps with a touch of magic, Reynir darts over to the door and slams it closed.

Onni whips around, magic burning in his raised hands, and turns right into the blinding flash of light Reynir releases with a click of his fingers.

He's on the floor, cursing and wiping his blinded eyes, as Reynir steps over and says, "No begging this time. I've got a proposition for you."

"Is it as inane as every other thing you've told me through the years?" Onni hisses, still rubbing at his weeping eyes. 

"What if I told you I could get Lalli and Tuuri back?"

Onni goes still as stone; for a moment he doesn't even seem to be breathing. Then he launches himself upward, swinging blindly, a growl tearing itself from his throat. Reynir dodges easily, and says, "That's not the reaction I expected."

" _Don't lie about them_ ," Onni hisses, coming to a stop and twisting his head around, questing for the direction Reynir's voice is coming from. 

"I'm not lying. I have something I think we can trade with Swan of Tuonela, in return for Lalli and Tuuri's souls. The only problem is, I don't know how to get there. But a little bird told me you do."

Onni has gone still again, listening to him. "How do I know you're not lying?" he croaks.

"Why would I?"

"All you've ever done is try and get me to come back here with you. This could be just the latest in a _series_ of lies."

"And how long would you stay, once you learnt I couldn't make good on my promise?"

That silences Onni for a few moments. "You've never spoken about this before," he says.

"I didn't know it could be done, before."

Onni straightens, licks his lips. Reynir can almost see the cogs turning in his mind. "What it is you think the Swan will accept?" 

"I have a portion of Thor's great power mixed in with my own soul. I can separate it, and give it to her."  _How_ he would do that, Reynir had no idea, but he presumed the Swan would know. 

Onni snorts. Reynir can see his eyes refocusing, recovering from the blinding, but he doesn't move to attack again. "You really think you have a piece of a god inside you?"

"If your gods are real, why shouldn't mine be, too?"

"I suppose your strange power has to come from somewhere." He tips his head back and eyes Reynir speculatively. "You know, I promised myself I would never make peace with you."

"That was a short-sighted promise."

"Maybe so; but it's a hard one to forget." He considers a moment longer - then nods. "You truly think you have something the Swan will accept?"

"I do."

"Then I'll take you to Tuonela, I suppose."

Despite how he's trying to project an air of casual detachment, Reynir can see the desperate hope in his eyes. He has Onni hooked; he believes.

Onni glances up at the ceiling. "You should probably leave your friends here, though. I doubt non-mages will survive the trip back."

A spike of anxiety goes through Reynir's stomach at the thought of leaving the others behind; but Onni is here, talking to him,  _agreeing to this plan_. He can't back out. "Okay. Lead on, then."

Onni stares at him for a moment longer; then he gestures to the floor, and sits down cross-legged. "First, we have to enter a trance."

Reynir sits opposite him. "A trance?"

"Our bodies are of the earth, and cannot go to Tuonela; we must go there in spirit." He sounds like he's reciting something someone told him long ago. "Give me your hands," he says, reaching for them.

Reynir does so, slowly and cautiously, still aware that this could be some kind of trap. But Onni just takes his hands, and says, "Close your eyes."

His eyes closed, Reynir takes a calming breath, trying not to think about how weird this, and how they're doomed to fail. He can do this.

"Project your awareness up, up as high as it can go. I know how to go there; follow me."

It's always hard to describe  _awareness_ to a non-mage. Reynir hadn't had words for it himself, not before he'd trained in Reykjavik, and he hadn't known just how much could be done with it. The experience of projecting yourself outside of your body, even if only in part, isn't something that can truly be described in words.

But now Onni is doing something different. He's not just pushing out a piece of himself to go questing, seeking for danger or power; he's pushing the  _entirety_ of his soul away, out, up toward the endless night sky above. For a moment Reynir is too afraid to do anything but cling to Onni's physical hands; in the next moment he wants to open his mouth, to call  _Stop_ , because they can't do this.

Then Onni's grip on him, not merely physical, is tugging him along in his wake; and Reynir steels himself, takes one last real breath, and pushes his own soul after Onni's.

It's strange, disorienting; Reynir feels like he's flying, or floating, a wash of stars whirling past his eyes. The only concrete thing is Onni's hands in his, gripping hard enough to hurt.

Then, with a thump, they land.

In front of them, Reynir sees a vast, dark ocean, with what look like icebergs or islands floating in it far away, all crowned by a spread of stars more lovely than any he's ever seen. 

"Tuonela," he whispers.

"Yes," Onni replies, his voice just as low. "Come, the guards aren't here right now; we can slip across the barrier."

Reynir sees no barrier, but Onni takes his hand and leads him down the rough slope and into the water. Except they don't walk into it; when Reynir takes a step, expecting his foot to plunge into the dark ocean, it lands instead on the surface. "Don't falter," Onni says beside him, and they walk on, over the strange, hard surface of the water and out into Tuonela's ocean. 

When they've almost left the shore behind, Onni says, "What now?"

"Now we look for the Swan." Reynir glances about, but sees only still, calm ocean, and islands that seem to slowly move if he doesn't look at them directly. "Where is she?"

"Wherever she pleases to be," Onni says, clearly enjoying being cryptic. 

Reynir rolls his eyes at him, but asks, "Does that mean she could be under the- _oh god what is that."_

Halfway through the sentence he looks down, and sees something below the water that makes his stomach churn. Are those-?

Onni looks down with him, unimpressed. "Well, where did you think the dead were?"

There's  _hundreds_ of people down there, all encased in great mountains of ice. Reynir stares downward, gaping. "That's  _creepy_."

"It's  _peaceful_ ," Onni says, frowning.

Reynir shivers, and resolves not to look down again. "If you say so." Pulling his coat closer around him, he says, "Where's the Swan?"

"An interesting question, from mages trespassing in  _my_ domain," a low, female voice rumbles from somewhere behind them.

Reynir catches the flash of fear on Onni's face, though he tries to hide it. He can't quite hide the strain in his voice as he says, "That sounds like her."

Heart in his throat, Reynir turns. Coming toward them is a Swan, a  _huge_ Swan, her pure white plumage caressed by the light of the stars above. "You I should put to sleep immediately, kade," she snaps. "But you are interesting, and very far from home, little follower of Odin." She coasts to a stop before them, her head at least six feet above Reynir's. "So I will keep you awake long enough to hear what brings you here."

Reynir swallows; it's clear that in this context, 'asleep' is functionally the same as 'dead'. "I had hoped you might look favourably upon me, and agree to trade."

The Swan tilts her head, staring down at him. "Trade? The only things of value I keep are souls. You must have something valuable indeed, to think you could offer me a trade."

Reynir takes a breath and says, "Does a piece of Thor's own power sound valuable enough for you?"

That, Reynir can sense, gives the Swan pause. "Thor's own power," she says musingly, "I suppose he gave you this power at birth, did he? Chose you?"

"Yes."

"And you would squander that gift?"

"I wouldn't consider it squandered," Reynir says, "If you would give us in return the souls of my companion's sister and brother, Tuuri and Lalli Hotakainen."

"Interesting, interesting," the Swan trills. Her great head swings from side to side, and then she lets out a strange, croaky laugh. "I almost expect the thunder god himself to come roaring down from his heavens, swinging his great hammer to stop you, but it seems you have slipped past under his nose." She tilts her head again, considering. "It's a tempting offer, truly. Then again, extracting power like that from a mortal body is so fiddly and difficult." Her burning orange eye regards him steadily. "While keeping him alive, that is."

Reynir feels his breath come short, and his palms begin to sweat, but still he says, "If I must give up my life along with the power, I will." He hears Onni make a low noise of protest, but he shakes off the hand that reaches for him. "Will you accept the bargain, then, Swan of Tuonela?"

"Your soul and your power for those two who sleep?" When the Swan opens her mouth to smile, Reynir can see lines of sharp, serrated teeth in her wide jaw. "Gladly," she rumbles, and then she strikes, fast as a snake.

Reynir feels pain explode in his chest, and suddenly the water under his feet is solid no longer. He only has time to catch a glimpse of Onni's stricken face before he slips below the surface, sinking fast as a stone, down and down toward the mountains of ice and sleeping corpses, a thick trail of blood ghosting through the water in his wake.

 _Please, let Tuuri and Lalli go. Let my guilt rest_.

If they're free - if Onni is no longer a kade - everything will be worth it.

Then something breaks the surface above, and he sees a dark shape dropping down toward him. 

Arms go around him as his vision fades; he has the sense that's he's being pulled  _up_ , back up to the light.

He loses consciousness for a moment, because when he comes to again he's back in the air, lying on something solid, with pain like a roaring fire burning across his chest. 

Hands frame his face, and he can hear Onni's voice whispering, "No, you're not going too, not you as well-"

"This defiance is vexing, kade," he hears the Swan say.

"You have your half of the bargain!" Onni shouts at her. With his eyes half-open, Reynir can see him, fuzzily, as if he's still underwater. "Let him go!"

Reynir turns his head, a titanic effort, to see the Swan flip her head, tossing something small and orange and jewel-like up into the air and then catching it again. "I do," she says, "And I will keep my half of the bargain; your siblings will return to the mortal world, whole and hale. What happens to the mage, only time will tell. I would prepare yourself for his death, kade." She lets out a low rumble and adds, "And I would not underestimate how hard it will be for you yourself to return, now that you're here."

With that, the Swan slips silently under the cold waters, and Reynir feels his eyes closing. He's done it; Lalli and Tuuri are alive again, as they should be. Now if only Onni will go, leave him here-

He feels Onni pull his face back toward him. "Don't die," he whispers, pleads.

Reynir coughs; the pain in his chest is growing. "You're not supposed to care about me, remember?" he gasps out. "You hate me."

"I never did," Onni says, putting his face close to Reynir's, their foreheads touching.

"You need to go back," Reynir whispers, "To be with them."

"I didn't want to lose anyone else. I  _can't_ lose anyone else." There's a hitch in Onni's voice that Reynir has never heard before. "I brought you here because you said you could  _bargain._ You weren't supposed to die- you weren't supposed to die, I never wanted-"

Onni's voice cuts off in a gasp, a wordless noise of confusion, and Reynir feels a hand touch his chest. 

"You're a troublesome one, little Reynir," an old, impossibly old voice says, as merely a whisper in his ear, "But such valour and honour deserve reward." 

The burning sensation in his chest intensifies; and then it's gone, like it never was. Reynir opens his eyes, and for a second sees an old man's face floating above him - one blue eye bright and twinkling, the other only an empty socket. 

Then his vision goes white.

~

When he wakes, he can hear both yelling and laughter.

It takes a moment for him to realize the yelling is happy yelling; another to force his eyes to open. 

He's still sitting exactly where he was when they left for Tuonela, across from a very surprised Onni, still holding both his hands. 

The whooping and yelling is coming from Sigrun, who's swinging Tuuri around in her arms, yelling and laughing as loud as she can.

Tuuri. It's Tuuri she's holding. 

The knowledge explodes like a depth charge in Reynir's mind. Tuuri is  _there_ , in front of him, real and whole and  _alive_. She looks somewhat confused, true, but also happy, smiling. "I feel like I've been asleep for so long," she says, prompting an uncomfortable laugh to force its way up Reynir's throat.  _If only you knew_.

Somewhere behind him he can hear Lalli's voice, telling Emil to stop hugging him; and across from him, their hands still joined, tears are slipping down Onni's face like rain, like a flood washing away all the pain of the last long, dark seven years. 

"Thank you," he mouths; and inside Reynir's chest, something slots into place. 

~

Later, when they've celebrated, when the news has spread through Keuruu, Onni finds Reynir high up on the walls where they look out over the river.

"I should apologize," he says, very quietly, "I saw only my own pain, my own grief. I let myself wallow in it, let it poison me, and you paid the price."

"Don't falter, you said to me, when we stepped into Tuonela," Reynir says, his voice just as soft. "But I did falter, didn't I? I didn't have the courage to tell you what had happened to Tuuri, and you suffered because of it. I faltered in that final battle, against that creature, and because Lalli stepped in to save me, he died in my place." Reynir turns to look at him. "I paid the debt I owed you. All of you."

Onni's face is lined with grief. "You owed me nothing. I was stupid to think-"

Possessed by a sudden, random urge, Reynir steps forward and presses a finger to Onni's lips. "It's done. It's over now; we're all here again."

Onni shakes his head. "And if your angry god comes looking for you?"

"The most powerful of our gods saved me; I doubt he will be overruled."

Onni reaches up and takes the hand still hovering near his mouth. "I should never have taken you there. It would have ended me, if you'd died."

"Tuuri and Lalli would have been here."

"But not you." Onni looks down at their hands. "This may seem strange, or weird, to you, because I know we have never really even been friends-"

"No, we have been friends," Reynir protests.

"Well, maybe-"

"I was here for a year to organise the second expedition before we left, and we were definitely  _friends_ ," Reynir insists.

That makes Onni smile a little. "Still, we haven't spent much time together. Not enough for me to feel... the way I do."

Reynir feels his breath shorten a little, an odd flutter in his stomach. "And what way is that?"

Onni groans; his cheeks are beginning to turn red. "You know, don't you? Gods, I don't know how you can't know."

"Maybe I do," Reynir says, because he'd wondered, but now he's beginning to be sure. "Maybe I need you to spell it out."

Onni just looks at him for a minute; then he leans in, close enough that Reynir can feel his breath brushing over his own half-open mouth, close enough that their eyes are only inches apart, staring at each other as if there's nothing else in the universe worth looking at.

And then Onni closes that distance, kisses him with such gentle softness, and Reynir feels like he could fly back to Tuonela without so much as a feather to bear him.

He grasps Onni's shoulders, pulls him closer, deepens the kiss even as Onni buries one hand in his fall of long, loose red hair. He tastes of faintly of tea and mint and he can feel Onni's fingers flexing where they come to rest on his waist, the other hand tangling itself deeper in his hair-

Then Onni pulls away with a gasp, and says, "No good at words, but-"

"That's eloquence enough for me," Reynir gasps, and pulls him back in.

It's quite a long time later that Reynir realizes they really are just making out right on top of the wall in view of pretty much everyone, which is incredibly embarrassing, though worth it when he sees the blush that spreads across Onni's face when he realizes it too. "You have a house though, don't you?" Reynir says, grinning as he tugs on Onni's hand; but Onni doesn't come with him. "What's wrong?" Reynir asks.

Onni is looking out at the river. "Will you go back?" he asks in a small voice. "Home?"

"Maybe," Reynir says, "Probably." After a pause he adds, "But there's no reason you couldn't come too, is there?"

"I get seasick," Onni mumbles.

That makes Reynir laugh, and pull him close for another kiss; then someone heckles them from somewhere else on the wall, and they beat a hasty retreat back to Onni's house, with Reynir laughing at Onni's blush the whole way home.

 _Back to Iceland_ , Reynir thinks, unable to contain his grin. He hasn't let himself think of home, not once in seven years; but now he can. Now he can plan for the future again - a future that will have the man beside him in it as well, if he has anything to say about it.

 _I did it_ , Reynir thinks; and the bubble of happiness in his chest almost lifts his feet off the ground.

_Into the unknown, and out again; and once more into the sun._

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think there's any 'giving mortals parts of their power' in the actual Norse mythology; that was just for the purposes of the story. Hopefully you can all guess who the stranger in the hollow is, just like Reynir.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
